


please, just see me

by iamyouropus (adieu_sweetamaryllis)



Series: every beat of your heart is one less i've got [2]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Episode: s09e12 Hell Bent, F/M, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-06
Updated: 2015-12-06
Packaged: 2018-05-05 04:56:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5362223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adieu_sweetamaryllis/pseuds/iamyouropus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>Please, just see me,</em> she hears him beg, the memory of his voice hers and hers alone. </p><p>Because the man sitting before her could no longer see her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	please, just see me

_You can’t see me,_ he said to her. She disagreed — she _hadn’t_  seen him, but she could, then, after he’d called. She hugged him for the first time in his new body. It was awkward, and he didn’t return the gesture, but it’d brought her some comfort nonetheless.

_Please, just see me,_ she hears him beg, the memory of his voice hers and hers alone. 

Because the man sitting before her could no longer see her. 

God, she’d been so stupid, but she’d _hoped. W_ hen he began to talk about her, the glint in his eye, the small smile, a small flicker of hope lit deep within her that he was being coy, that he _did_  remember her, that everything was going to be okay and that this wasn’t goodbye. 

It turns out, she doesn’t like goodbyes much either. 

Still, she has to face the music.

“When something goes missing, you can always recreate it by the hole it left,” he explains. Her heart drops a little. Not a memory, then, but a clever construction of a mind too complex for her to understand.

“I know we sat together in the cloisters. She told me something very important, but I have no idea what she said.”

She swallows, hard, but he doesn’t notice, his eyes unfocused, trying to recall a memory that doesn’t exist as he continues to speak.

“Or what she looked like, how she talked or laughed. There’s nothing there, just nothing.” 

He looks her in the eye again, and she gives him a small smile that she hopes doesn’t look too sympathetic. _You’re just a waitress in a diner,_ she reminds herself.

Still, she can’t stop herself from asking,“Are you looking for her?” 

“I’m trying.”

The hope is back, but she pretends she doesn’t feel it. She tries to sound neutral as she speaks. “She could be anyone right? You don’t know who you’re looking for, I mean, she could be me for all you know.”

She’s always been a good liar, she thinks. It had gotten her out of many a life-threatening situation, but could it get her through this? 

Her strained tone doesn’t seem to bother the man sitting in front of her. He smiles with his eyes as he speaks, and it’s so familiar it makes her heart ache. God, what she’d give to have a little more time with those eyes. 

“There’s one thing I know about her, just one thing,” he says. Her breath catches as she gives a slight, imperceptible nod, because if he was playing her, if this was all just some clever joke he’s pulling, now would be the moment.

“If I met her again, I’d absolutely know.” 

It’s the hardest thing she’s ever done, not crying just then. She feels as if the air is pulled out of her lungs, and is grateful when he spins away, caught up in his thoughts.

“I think that we were here.” He says, mostly to himself, and she takes a moment to breathe. Her eyes fill quickly, and she turns, quickly bringing her hand to her mouth, brushing her knuckles against her cheek when a single tear falls out.

The Doctor doesn’t notice her. Doesn’t _see_ her.“I think we were here together once. I’m sure I remember we were… we were here.” 

They weren’t, and somehow that makes it so much worse. 

“Stupid Doctor… Amy and Rory!” 

And that’s all she’ll ever be, is a brief mistaken memory for him. He’ll be able to fill in the gaps, guess where he can, but he’ll never truly have any memory of her. 

She changes the subject. He moves with it, happy to continue his discussion with a random waitress, always a charismatic and friendly man despite his somewhat off-putting disposition. 

She can’t stay here. She knows that, but still, it hurts so much for her to leave. She makes her way towards the door, knowing what is waiting for her behind it, the inevitability of her fate. 

“What Clara told you in the cloisters,” she starts to say before she goes.

“I don't remember a single thing about it,” he cuts in, and it’s all she needs to continue.  This is it, then.

This is goodbye. 

“You said memories become stories when you forget them,” she says, trying not to let her voice show how much she hates to be a forgotten memory to him. She glances at the guitar hanging from his neck, his fingers where they rest against the frets. She tries to absorb it, all, but she can’t possibly. Her memory, though much better than his, was still human, faulty.“Maybe some of them become songs.” 

He wears a faint smile. “That would be nice.” He spins absentmindedly as he plays, and it makes her smile. It was such a beautiful last image of him to have, even if the thought of it being her last breaks her heart.

“Yeah it would be, wouldn’t it?” It’s the last thing she’ll get to say to him, maybe ever. They aren’t the best last words — they’d had better, anyway. 

She lets her eyes linger on him, determined to have a better final picture if their last conversation had to end as acquaintances would end it. 

_I’d seen him before lots of times, but he just looked so beautiful, standing there,_ she hears her Gran saying.

_I wanted everything to stop. I wanted nothing to change, ever again._

She takes in the way the sun glows around him, the softness of his curls in the yellow light as he sways to the music. 

_If he could just keep standing there, so beautiful._

_If only_ , Clara thinks, and then she closes the Tardis door behind her.

**Author's Note:**

> So I thought tonight's episode was really beautiful and just had to write a little drabble about it. If you want to mourn with me on Tumblr (@ aka-patsywalker) feel free.


End file.
